Flightless Bird
by Scotty1609
Summary: Robin dies.
1. Death

**I own nothing.**

**This is for qwardofanima's challenge "Sidekick's Lost"**

**Warnings: blood, CHARACTER DEATH**

It started out as a covert mission-

Then again, _all _of their missions 'started out' as covert missions.

It wasn't until, in that dusty, dimly lit warehouse, that they realized in the deep pits of their guts that something bad was about to happen.

_**BANG!**_

There was a loud gasp, and Robin's hand went to his gut. His eyes widened behind his mask, and he fell to his knees as blood poured over his hand. "Robin!" Miss Martian was the closet to him. She grabbed his torso in her arms, holding his upper body in a cradle hold. "Robin- oh gods... Robin, t-try to stay awake, okay? Can you do that, please?"

Kid Flash was the next over, his face so pale he looked ready to faint. "G-Gosh..." he said, adding on a swear at the end. His hands stood millimeters away from Robin's wound, as if he was trying to see if he should or shouldn't touch his friend.

"Lay him down, M'gann," came Artemis's scratchy voice as she crouched down near the others.

Miss Martian did as she was told, gently letting Robin's head lay on the concrete. The vigilante's mouth was open slightly as he rasped for air. Gurgling, sickening noises came from his throat as his fingers dug at the floor. "Oh, gosh, Rob!" Kid Flash exclaimed. "What have you got yourself into now?"

Robin tried to chuckle, but the only thing that came up was blood. Miss Martian shrieked, and Artemis shoved her out of the way, putting pressure on Robin's wound. "Call the League," she ordered Kid Flash.

Normally, the ginger would fight back, but the sight of his best friend looking so pale, so vulnerable, red blood completely _oozing_ out of him in a puddle on the floor- he bit back the puke that rose in his throat as he pushed him comm link.

"Kid Flash to Justice League, Kid Flash to- to _anyone_! We need help!"

Aqualad made his way over, dragging a furious-faced Superboy behind him. The clone had blood on his knuckles. No one asked.

Aqualad knelt down next to Artemis, looking over Robin's body. The boy's tunic was already stained through-and-through with his crimson blood, that of which also coated Artemis's hands, even under her nails. Sweat poured down Robin's face, red liquid all over his chin and running down his neck.

Superboy stood back, his face anguished. Miss Martian was weeping by now.

"Kid Flash to Justice League! Kid Flash to Justice League! ANYONE!"

"_Kid Flash, this is Green Arrow. Shoot."_

The speedster paled at the word. "It- It's R-R-Robin! He- he's been shot- we _need_ help- NOW!"

"_On our way."_

Green Arrow wasn't able to hide the fear in his voice as he changed up his comm link to call Batman. _"What, Arrow?" _the Dark Knight growled. The sound of Kevlar against flesh came over the unit. _"I'm busy."_

Not knowing what to say, the archer bluntly came out with, "Robin got shot."

There was a long silence, then, _"Tell the Team I'm on my way."_

Arrow nodded. "Right."

When Batman hung up, he swore. "Aqualad? We're on our way."

But, by the time all of the mentors got there, they were too late.

Miss Martian was weeping into Superboy's shirt, her whole body shaking violently. The clone's eyes were filled with tears, his jaw set firmly. Artemis was sitting back on her knees, her face that of disbelief. Her hands and shirt were covered in a sickly red liquid. Aqualad was facing away from the team, his shoulders shaking lightly as he cried. Kid Flash, however, wasn't trying to hide his tears. His whole body was flung over Robin's as he bawled, his fingers tightly latched onto the younger hero's shoulders.

Batman froze at the entrance, his jaw opened slightly. Suddenly, he bolted towards the group, the other mentors following him.

Batman wasn't gentle when he ripped Kid Flash away from his son.

Scratch that.

His son's corpse.

Robin's mask was still in place, but behind it, his eyes were blank and unseeing. His mouth was open, blood still coming out of it slowly. In his curled-up hand was a signaler that led straight from his belt to Batman's.

Slowly, Batman pulled his son into his arms, feeling for a pulse he knew would not be there. "N-No..." he hissed lightly, hugging the boy into his chest. "No..."

Flash paused for a moment- forever for a speedster- in his disbelief. Then, he shook his head and walked over to his nephew, who was practically screaming, "No! No, he can't be- no! No, no, no, no, no! NO! He can't be- He can't... He just c-c-can't..." He sobbed into his uncle's chest as the Flash picked up the teen, as if he was seven again.

J'onn pried his niece off of Superboy, but the Martian girl then latched onto her uncle, completely devastated and feeling terrified of everything in the room at that moment.

Green Arrow gently stood behind Artemis, massaging her neck lightly as she just shook her head, muttering unintelligibly.

Aquaman pulled Aqualad aside, and the two shared hushed words before the older hero pulled his protege into a light hug.

Finally, Black Canary stepped forward. Superman had been 'busy', and _surely _Robin would be fine.

So, here Dinah was, trying to figure out how the teen would react to her 'maternal' instincts.

Superboy lifted his head to look at her, and his arms fell loosely to his sides. His lower lip quivered as tears gently fell down his cheeks. "He can't..."

Dinah enveloped the teen into a hug, which he readily accepted.

Meanwhile, Batman was crying for the first time since he was eight. He cried for his protege, his partner, but mostly- Bruce Wayne cried for Richard Grayson.

His son.

His son...

Robin was dead.

He would never fly again.

**I already have the next few chapters ready: _Robin's_ funeral, and Superboy's reaction, but not the others' reactions.**

**Sooooooo...**

**the more people that review, the faster I'll update!**

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	2. Cape

**Okay, really short ficlet for CH 2, but this is _Robin's_ funeral. Dick Grayson's will come later. D*: (sorry. Got a bit teary-eyed there.)**

**Anyways, this is a little bit of Batman's reaction to Robin's death, but _Bruce Wayne's _reaction will come later. For now, though, enjoy!**

**(Oh, and I own nothing. No duhr. If I did, Artie and KF would already be dating, and Superman would have accepted his son. gr... mad at that Boyscout right now...)**

Word easily spread throughout the country. Reporters and photographers were all being paid _big_ just to get a picture of Batman. But, of course, no one saw the Dark Knight. But, pictures of the other heroes grieving were common- Flash hugging Kid Flash while the teen bawled his eyes out, the Green Lanterns both snapping at reporters, furious of their 'betrayal of Batman's privacy', and even Superboy- well, he wasn't crying. He was beyond that stage. But, reporters got a few pictures of Superman restraining him from beating the photographers to death.

Three days passed, and there was still no word from Batman.

Finally, messages were sent out to all of the Leaguers- invitations to Robin's, the Boy Wonder's, funeral.

The funeral was small, the only people there the Leaguers (and Alfred). Robin's body was not buried, to some of the heroes' surprise, but his cape was put in a coffin- a _coffin._

The mere word made Batman want to puke his guts out.

His son was going to be placed in a _coffin_.

The canary yellow side up, Robin's cape was placed in the- the box- and his mask on top of that. Even his belt, with his tools and all, was placed inside the box. Then, the lid was placed on, and Superman, Flash, Green Arrow, and Batman lowered the _box_ into the ground.

J'onn telepathically moved the dirt to cover the co- coffin...

Then, it was all over.

Everyone went home.

**Yeah. Short n'- well, not really sweet...**

**Oh, well!**

**The faster you review, the faster you get a glimpse of Superboy's reaction to Robin's death!**

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	3. Connor

**I own nothing.**

**Warning(s): Character Death. anything else...? I dunno. oh, well!**

**Rating: T 'cuz I'm paranoid.**

**Ummmmmmm... yeah.**

Three weeks later, invitations were sent out to seperate people- 'important' and 'rich' people. Bruce would rather have taken his own life than have to actually stand there and accept false pity from people he hated- but Richard wouldn't have wanted it. Richard would have wanted him to move on, but he couldn't. What was the Dynamic Duo without the Dynamic? And Batman himself was not a Duo...

But Robin...

_Richard_ had been Dynamic.

Had been.

The homes of John Jones, Barry Allen, Oliver Queen, Clark Kent, and Dinah Lance all received gold-laced letters that read, in fancy cursive,

_"Please join us in remembering Richard 'Dick' John Grayson tomorrow morning at 10 o'clock, at the Gotham Cemetery."_

…

…

J'onn and Dinah both appeared at the Mountain the next day at 9 AM. M'gann was already ready, her dress simple and black-laced. Sapphire tears were already welling in her eyes, but she couldn't brush them away. She felt frozen, as if she had been stuffed in a meat locker.

Richard Grayson, huh? No wonder Robin never wanted them knowing who he was... What would they have thought?

They wouldn't have thought him any different... Right?

There was no joy in finding out Robin's identity- there was only terror and pain.

J'onn turned himself into John Jones, his normal brown suit now black. Dinah, too, was in all black.

Connor walked into the room in his normal outfit. "Ready," he grunted, his rage evident.

Dinah couldn't help but smirk. "I thought you'd need some clothes." She held up a bag. "One of Roy's old suits. Come on."

Twenty minutes later, Dinah was helping Connor with his black, silken tie.

"I don't understand."

She looked up at him, patting down his lapels and peering into furious eyes. "What?"

"Why do we dress up for something so sad? I mean..." He looked away, tears welling. "Why?"

Dinah bit back her own tears as she straightened out the clone's collar. "We aren't celebrating Dick's death, Connor. We're celebrating the life he lived- albeit a short one."

Suddenly, Connor turned and punched the rock wall of his room, making it crumple, almost straight through his bedroom and into Kaldur's. "I SHOULD HAVE DONE SOMETHING!" he roared, pounding the wall again. "I COULD HAVE DONE SOMETHING!"

Dinah just watched as the boy teared apart his room.

After about five minutes, Connor was standing in a furniture massacre, his face red and pain-filled. "I- I can't... I should have done _something_," he croaked.

Then, the most surprising thing happened.

Superboy fell to his knees and cried while Dinah held his shaking form.

"I- I just stood there... I- I could have done _something_... He was unique, he was his own person... H- He..." Connor looked up at Dinah and tried to smirk, but it came out a pained grimace. "He was t- teching me h-how to do a flip... I still c-can't, though..."

Dinah bit her lip, holding the teen closer. She stroked his hair, but said nothing.

What could you say to that?

**Sorry if Superboy is a little OOC, (okay, a _lot_ OOC) but I've always been told about how people have influences on others. And, Superboy hasn't seen death yet, right? If he saw his 'little bird' being killed, well, imagine how traumatizing that would be... :*(**

**ANYWAYS!**

**I'm thinking I'll do the perspectives in order: Connor, M'gann, Kaldur, Artemis, Wally, Roy, Alfred, Bruce. Wow. That means I've still gooooot... seven to go.**

**Holy Crap.**

**but, you know what keeps me going in these terrible, plot-bunny times?**

**REVIEWS!**

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	4. M'gann

**I really don't think I've ever written something this short...**

**I own nothing.**

Why black?

Sure, his mask had been black... His hair had been black... His cape had been _half_ black...

But why black?

"Uncle John?"

John Jones stopped on the grassy, green hill to turn to his niece. "Yes, Megan?"

They were at Gotham Cemetery, and, despite the day being such a horrid, terrible day, the sky was blue, the sun was yellow, and the grass was green. It wasn't how she had seen funerals on TV. They were always dark and scary, with rain and a gray sky. And everything was black. But, no, the tent where everyone was gathering was white. Flowers of different shades of blue were placed all around. The chairs were silver and navy.

But not black.

Everyone was _wearing_ black, though.

"Why black?"

The shape-shifter cocked a curious eyebrow. "Pardon?"

"Why black? Why is black the color of sadness? His hair was black... He- he wore a b-b-black j-jacket..." Tears welled in M'gann's eyes, and her lip quivered rapidly. "H-His glasses were b-b-b-black... Oh, Uncle J'onn, I never got to see his eyes!"

She threw her arms around her uncle's neck, and the man held her tightly as she wept, her face buried into his jacket.

J'onn saw her skin start to turn a pale green.

Slowly, he bid it to turn back to tan.

"M'gann, child," he whispered in her ear, ignoring the looks of disgust from the old fancy farts that saw his day-suit. "Child, do not weep... Richard would not have wanted you to. He would have told you to stay happy, as you always are. M'gann, M'gann look at me."

He cupped her cheek in his hand, watching tears fall down her cheeks. With a heavy heart, he smiled grimly. "Megan, Richard was your friend. We are here to share our feelings and our losses we feel now that he has... passed... but we are also here to celebrate his life."

She nodded slowly, using a handkerchief to dry her eyes. "S-So we have a b-b-balance of black and c-color..."

John nodded sadly. "Yes. A balance."

"He always like color... He- He said that Bruce made him have black on the outside, but he- he wanted gold... S-So, they b-b-balanced it out..."

John nodded again, understanding what she spoke of. "Yes. A balance. The balance between life and death, M'gann. With every soul that dies, another takes its first breath." He switched to telepathy so that no one else could hear them.

"_M'gann... Robin died in the line of duty- as he would have wanted to-"_

"_But by something as... as... _simple_ as a bullet, Uncle J'onn? He- he was destined for so much more than this... that..."_

John sighed heavily, pulling Megan's hand into his as he led her under the tent. _"I know, child. I wish I had the words to comfort you..."_

"_I know you do, Uncle J'onn... I know..."_

**I'd like to say that I'm a Christian, so, during the 'ceremony' in upcoming chapters, there will be Bible stuff and mentions of God and Heaven. I apologize if this offends you, but, in my eyes, Robin is a Christian, as am I. So...**

**I love you all!**

**I'm really worried that I may offend anyone with what I'm saying and stuffs... PLEASE don't take me out on a limb with all of this stuff, it's just short (mostly quotes from sad movies) and stuff. I can't really help you with your grief, but God can! Look to Him!**

**Anyways, that makes me think...**

**If any of you has a prayer request, then you can PM me, or review it. You don't have to, I'd just like to be able to pray for you. Really, I don't need reviews, but if you need prayers, just ask.**

**IS LOVES YOUS ALLS!**


	5. Kaldur'ahm

**This is probably the shortest thing I've ever written.**

**Anyways, I own nothing.**

**And _here_ is Kaldur's reaction to Robin's death. *tears***

"_You should lead us, Kaldur... You're the only one that can..."_

_But I failed you, Robin..._

Kaldur stood a good distance away from the funeral, his bare feet digging into the soft soil. He watched the preacher standing there, his arms wide to the heavens as he proclaimed how amazing and smart Richard had been, and about how we should not be crying, but rejoicing at how he was now joining his parents.

_You were supposed to take on my job, Robin..._

Tears welled in Kaldur's eyes as he ducked behind a large weeping willow. _Such a perfect name for such a sad tree..._

Robin was the most experienced. Robin was the youngest. Robin was the smartest.

Robin was the leader.

Kaldur had been their leader, but Robin was _the _leader. He was supposed to take on the burden, like his father.

_His father..._

Kaldur still couldn't believe that Robin was Batman's _son_.

_His ward, technically... He never adopted Robin..._

Kaldur knew who Bruce Wayne was, not just knowing who _Bruce _was, but who Batman was. And he also knew who Richard Grayson was. Robin.

Their little bird.

_His _job was to lead his team, to protect _his_ team, to protect _his_ little brother...

Yet he failed.

He had seen the gunner. He had seen the gun. He had seen the bullet, seen it hit Robin's gut. He had seen Robin fall... He had seen the blood, his reflection hazy and obscured in the crimson liquid. He had seen it all...

But he hadn't done anything.

Sure, he had held back Superboy from completely breaking the gunner into pieces. Sure, he had watched the man be taken away by the cops. Sure, he had answered as many questions as he could without breaking.

No, he didn't save Robin's life.

_You were supposed to take the lead, Robin... Richard, you left us too soon..._

He had only been thirteen.

_Thirteen... He was only a child..._

A child that would never run again, play again, fight again, laugh again.

Kaldur couldn't help but smirk as he remembered Robin's signature cackle. It was made to scare enemies, but if you had known Robin as long as _he _had, you would know that Dick was anything but scary. Robin was terrifying, though, when he wanted to be.

"_I'm terrifyingly awesome!" _Kaldur remembered the boy saying once.

The boy...

_A boy... I am so, so sorry, Richard, that I failed you..._

**I really hope I'm not making anyone go emo with this... As much as I love Robin, everyone here _knows_ that he's fictional... right?**

**Anyways... the faster you guys review, the faster I'll whip out 'Artemis'! and then... WALLY!**

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	6. Artemis

**I own nothing.**

**This is Artemis's side of the story. Her emotions on Dick's death and funeral.**

**So... here. yeah. R&R, please!**

She watched with bleary eyes as the preacher went on and on. His low, soothing voice crackled a bit when he spoke Ro- Dick's name. His arms were raised to the heavens as he spoke.

A strong arm pulled her into Oliver's side. He gently kissed her head, closing his eyes softly. Even without looking, Artemis could tell he was crying.

But she wouldn't cry.

She _never_ cried. Not even when her mother had become paralyzed. She _couldn't_ cry. It had been beaten into her- literally- as a child.

A child...

Dick had only been a child. He was _thirteen _for God's sake! He was the baby of the group... He was- he was her little brother... The little brother she had always wanted, but never had. He was the little bird, the spark of life in their dangerous and painful job. He was always smiling, always dancing about...

He was the most human, though.

No- he _wasn't _human.

No human could have lived through what he had and still be so... _happy_. So care-free, so light-hearted. So innocent, yet not.

She knew Richard Grayson's story. Heck, she knew Richard Grayson. She had seen him in school. He was the rich little circus-freak, the spoiled brat that everyone hated, yet loved to get 'closer' to him and use him, abuse him. She had to admit, even _she_ had been attracted to him and his gorgeous eyes. But, soon enough, she fell to the plague of prejudice.

She had judged him as a spoiled brat. As a kid who always got what he wanted. As, basically, stuck-up and selfish.

But she had been wrong...

The real Richard Grayson was Robin. Brave, courageous, valiant and protective. Kind, caring, loving and sincere. Smart, head-strong, never ceasing joy and light.

He had been so... so...

Artemis sighed and shook her head, pulling away from Oliver's touch.

No one could describe Robin and do it right. _No one_.

Except maybe Batman.

Except maybe Bruce Wayne.

The preacher eventually stopped speaking and turned towards the casket.

The _casket_.

The _box_, the tomb, the evil piece of wood that trapped Richard.

He had never been able to sit still. He was a little ninja, a little acrobat, a little ball of energy. Artemis couldn't help but break a smile.

Then, the preacher opened the casket.

Even from her spot a few rows back, Artemis could see his face. It was too pale, too calm, too... serene. Robin had been anything but serene...

His eyes were closed.

Artemis had never got to look at his eyes.

Well, at school, yeah, but Robin had always been wearing his shades or his mask.

She never got to see his _real_ eyes, full of joy how she imagined them. Full of light and excitement, as she imagined them. Full of youth, as she imagined them.

At school, you could tell he wasn't happy. He had pulled up a facade to hide, to make sure that no one suspected that he was the person who made it safe for them to walk outside. To make it safe for them to lay their heads down to sleep at night.

She lived in Gotham.

He had _protected _her.

_Her_.

She didn't deserve protection. She didn't deserve to live. He did.

He shouldn't have died.

Artemis looked away from Robin- from Dick's dead, ashen face... She grabbed the lapels of Oliver's suit and pushed her face into his chest, weeping harder than she ever had before.

**I really don't think I've ever written anything so... depressing.**

**ANYWAYS!**

**The continuing list is as such: Wally, Roy, Alfred, Bruce.**

**I would have done the mentors, too, but that would just be overdoing it, I think. SO... qwardofanima, I hope I'm doing you proud!**

**(p.s.- Wally's reaction is going to be while he's standing next to the coffin. *sob*)**

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	7. Wallace

**I own nothing. No duhr, Sherlocks and Watsons.**

**not to be rude... ;P**

**Anyways, this is Wally's reaction, with Barry thrusted in at the end.**

**R&R, please!**

He wasn't sure he could do this.

But, an encouraging hand touched his shoulder and squeezed. Wally looked up into the eyes of his Uncle Barry. Offering a weak smile, the man pulled Wally into a side-hug as they walked up to the side of the-

No. He couldn't say it. Couldn't _think_ it.

Richard's face was calm and serene. It was _too _calm. Robin had never been a... _calm_ soul. He was too excitable, too jumpy, too energetic.

He was a better kid than anyone.

He was so... so...

Wally couldn't describe it.

Richard and Wally had met years ago, when the latter was only eleven. He was impressed by the nine year old's talents, and vice versa. The two were instant friends. Over the years, they became best friends. Then brothers.

As Wally looked down at his little brother's face, he felt the tears coming on. His breath came quick and short, and he gulped in air greedily.

Greed.

Richard had _never _been greedy or spoiled, even with Bruce Wayne as a fath- foster father. He had always been generous, except with Bruce's love. That was the one thing Robin was greedy with- his Batman. _His_ Batman.

Of course, if it was an orphan needing a ride home, or a little kid needing dinner, then Robin was more than eager to help, even to the extent of begging Batman for a little brother or sister. The Dark Knight would just shake his head with that small smirk and say, "You're too much for me to handle already, lad."

His dark black eyelashes rested on white cheeks. Through his bleary tears, Wally could almost see Richard smile.

He gulped in more air, unable to get enough. Soon enough, he was hyperventilating.

His knees felt like Jello.

His heart was dropping into his stomach, which churned with agony. He was going to be sick.

Dropping to his knees, Wally let the tears come. His shoulders shook fiercely as he wept for his baby brother.

Robin _never _cried in front of _anyone_.

Except maybe Batman.

He had just been a strong kid like that.

The first and last time Wally caught Robin crying- it wasn't even Robin. It was Richard. And it was the anniversary. _The _anniversary.

For hours and hours, until the early dawn, Wally had just _held_ Richard in his arms, rocking him back and forth and crooning softly. Richard had held onto his shirt tightly, as if afraid that Wally would leave him, too.

But it hadn't been Wally who left Richard.

It had been Richard who left Wally.

Strong hands picked Wally up and held him tightly, carrying him away from his best friend's- his baby bird's- coffin.

_Coffin_.

A evil, demented box that could burn in Hell, in Wally's opinion.

Robin was too energetic to be trapped in a box- A damn _box_.

Damn that box. Damn it to Hell. It could burn in Hell for all damn eternity.

Wally found himself on the green grass, not caring that his church pants would be stained. Two strong arms held him tightly as he wept, grabbing onto the lapels of the man's jacket, wetting it with his tears. The man tightened his hold, as if afraid to let go.

"Deep breaths, Wally. Deep breaths."

The boy did so, taking a deep, shuddering breath in, and a deep, rasping breath out.

He sat there for almost and hour, just content to be in his uncle's arms.

He had only once seen Batman embrace Robin. When the ten-year-old got shot by Joker, Batman had knocked the clown unconscious and pulled his baby bird into his arms, holding on tightly until Superman and Flash pried him away and took Robin to Mount Justice for medical attention.

But he had seen Bruce embrace Richard _several _times.

That night that Wally held Richard, the two fell asleep in each others' arms, only waking up when Bruce came into the room. He picked up Richard and held him tight, pulling the boy into his chest and rocking him back and forth lovingly.

A hand stroked Wally's hair, and the boy looked up-

This wasn't his Uncle Barry.

_Bruce Wayne_ held the teen tightly, tears in his eyes. "It's okay, Wally... Deep breaths, deep breaths..."

He seemed like he was trying to assure himself.

Wally pulled away from the billionaire, pulling his knees to his chest and hiding his face in his hair. Bruce looked away shyly. "I- I'm sorry if I-"

"N-N-No," Wally stuttered, looking up and wiping away tears. "N-No, I just didn't expect... Well..."

"Yeah..."

The two sat in silence for a long while as everyone visited Richard's side. Wally scoffed at the crocodile tears the women cried. The only real tears he saw came from Dinah and Megan. And- Artemis? _She _was crying?

Wally shook his head. Richard had been special to them all. He had been their little light, their little ball of fire that couldn't be extinguished by _anything_.

Except maybe a bullet.

"Brother."

Wally looked over at Bruce, seeing that the man's navy eyes were on him. "W-What?"

"He told me that he considered you a brother... The big brother he never had."

After a long silence, Wally erupted into another fit of tears.

Bruce stood and walked off, unable to take it any longer.

Barry darted over, seeing his nephew so... broken.

"Hey, kiddo. It's okay, ssh, ssh... It's okay." He held the boy tightly, kissing his head and rubbing his back consolingly. "It's okay-"

"No, it's _not_!"

Barry jumped slightly at Wally's outburst.

"It will _never _be okay! He's gone, forever! He'll never come back, Uncle Barry! NEVER! I'll never hear him laugh, never see him smile... Never again, Uncle Barry! I- I- he's d-d-d..."

Wally couldn't say it. He couldn't _admit_ it. Sure, he _knew_ it, but knowing something and accepting it are two different things.

There was another long silence. Then, _Barry_ cried.

"I'm so, s-so sorry, Wally... I-I know that it h-hurts... It hurts more than anything, K-Kid. I _know_."

Wally cut off his uncle by enveloping the man in a hug. He wept into Barry's dress-shirt as the man buried his face into Wally's hair.

Both cried that day.

They cried for a lost nephew, and a lost brother.

**Admit it. You're crying right now.**

**Totally.**

**Sorry if Bruce is a little OOC, but I wanted REALLY BADLY to put that in there.**

**So...**

**you know.**

**excuse me, I have to pee, now.**

**(5 DAYS!)**


	8. Roy

**I own nothing. No duh.**

**OKAY!**

**So, this chapter is Roy and _his_ reaction to Robin's (& Richard's) death.**

************************** PLEASE READ******************** Roy was NOT aware of Robin's being shot, remember? OKAY! GOOD! Now, read on!**

Roy sat back on his couch with a sigh. It was almost noon, but he had just woken up.

Flipping through channels, he only half-listened to what was on.

"-Who lives in a pineapple under the-"

"-where _you_ decide who-"

"-join us again on 24 hour murder mysteries-"

"-at Richard Grayson's funeral-"

"-baby you're a _fiiiiirework_, c'mon let your colors burst-"

Roy's eyes widened, and he swore as he flipped back a channel.

There was a very sad-looking woman on screen. "For those of you just joining us, I'll say again, I'm Jessica Hong, here at Gotham Cemetery where the funeral for Richard Grayson is being held. The thirteen-year-old boy lost his life in a _tragic_ skiing accident, where another skier ran into him, and the two rolled down the mountain! Sadly, Richard did not make it, as he hit his head on a rock outcropping-"

But Roy had heard enough.

He felt his breath coming quickly, and his hands began to shake. Suddenly, he bolted up and ran to his room, looking desperately around for his phone. He found it on the floor next to his bookshelf. He began to flip through the contacts until he reached, _'Queen, Oliver'_.

The phone rang mindlessly; the whole time, Roy just stood there tapping his foot over and over on the old, craggy carpet. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, Ollie-"

"_R-Roy?" _came the tear-filled, strained voice.

Roy felt his heart drop as he clutched at the phone with one hand, running his fingers through his hair with the other. His voice cracked as he spoke. "O-Ollie, please tell me that it's not true..."

There was silence on the other end, and Roy felt his stomach begin to do flips. He swore and ran to the bathroom, dropping his phone on the floor as he did so. Leaning over the toilet, he heaved again and again and again.

Dickie... _his_ baby brother- his little 'partner-in-crime'... was _dead_.

More vertigo swept over his body, and the young man puked again into the toilet. A massive wave of emotions ran over his body.

Richard's birthday was in five days... _Five days_... Roy and Wally had planned a surprise birthday party for him- after all, you only turn fourteen once.

Roy cursed again at his weakness, wiping sweat from his face.

He wouldn't believe it.

He _couldn't_ believe it.

There was just something about the situation that made it all impossible. Maybe it was the fact that Richard was the Boy Wonder- he was Batman's protege, Batman's son. He was invincible- _nothing_ got through Richard.

Except for one certain day...

Memories of the past five years he had known Richard flooded back to him, and he felt tears coming to his eyes. Every year, every single year, on _that_ date, he would go over to Richard's house and spend the whole day pulling the boy from his depression. They played X-Box, went to the mall, listened to music, laughed, joked, just... _lived_.

It couldn't be true...

It just _couldn't_.

Richard was so... so full of life that it was just impossible to even _imagine_ him de- d- Roy couldn't bring himself to think it.

Suddenly, there came a pounding on his front door.

"Go away!" he shouted, his voice strained and full of the rapid tears that ran down his face, shaking his shoulders.

Roy wasn't one to cry- he was the tough-guy, he was Red Arrow, he was a _superhero_.

But, right now, he felt more like Roy Harper than Red Arrow. And he embraced that.

Richard had _always_ tried to keep him from going completely into Red Arrow, into the monster of vengeance and anger that he was born to be. He had constantly prayed with and for Roy, the young man knew that for sure. Richard would _talk_ to him- about his _feelings_.

It had been surreal.

_This_ was surreal.

He couldn't...

"Roy!" came the muffled voice from the door. More pounding echoed after. "Roy, it's Ollie! Open up!"

Pulling himself to his feet weakly, Roy made his way to the door. He fumbled with the dead lock before gently pulling open the door. He saw Oliver, and he knew that it was real. The man was wearing a thick black suit- _all_ black. His expression was grim, and he had tears in his eyes.

"Roy-"

The archer collapsed, only just barely being caught by his adoptive father. Oliver pulled Roy into his arms, as if he was eleven again, and carried him over to the couch. The TV was still on, blaring news about Richard Grayson's untimely death. Quickly, Oliver turned it off. He looked down at Roy, who was pale-faced and practically whimpering, tears cascading down his cheeks.

"O-Ollie... Tell me it's a mistake- t-t-tell me, p-please..."

Oliver gently brushed crimson hair from the younger man's face. His voice snapped when he said, "I'm so sorry, Roy, but... It's true... Robin was shot on a mission, but by the t-time we got there... We were too late."

Roy's body was suddenly shaking with intense sobs. Oliver pulled his surrogate son into his arms, allowing Roy to latch onto his suit front. "He- he can't be d-dead... He just _can't_! He- he's too young... He's so- so- No, Ollie, n-n-no..."

For the next several hours, until Roy fell into a not-so-peaceful sleep, Oliver just held him and rocked back and forth, back and forth.

Roy's last conscious thought was that if his baby brother was gone, he wanted to be gone, too.

**Depressing, right?**

**NEXT CHAPTER(S): Alfred, Bruce, _Original _Epilogue, _Alternate _Epilogue.**

**WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH! We're almost done! *boo hoo hoo!***

**you kno da dwill.**

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	9. Alfred

**i own none.**

**alfred.**

**read.**

He had to remain strong. Master Bruce needed it.

_He _needed it.

Alfred gently put the still-piping hot cookies onto a platter. There were at least five dozen, as he had been cooking for the past two hours since the funeral ended.

_Funeral_.

Master Dick's funeral.

Tears came to his eyes, and Alfred had to take a moment to compose himself. Taking in a deep, shaky breath, he blinked the droplets away and straightened his back. When Master Dick was a child, Alfred had always pestered him about standing straight.

"_But whyyyyyy?"_

"_Because, Master Richard, we must make a good impression upon others."_

"_You can call me Dick, you know, Alfred."_

"_Of course, Master Dick."_

"_Alfreeeeeeeed!"_

He walked into the room and set the platter down on the middle of the table. Barry and Wally reached forward, eating in their misery. M'gann looked to her uncle, who made no move to eat them, and sighed, slouching slightly in her chair. Clark was, to everyone's surprise, sitting next to Connor. Flashing his eyes over to the clone, he took a cookie. So did Dinah, Oliver, and Roy. Artemis made no move.

Alfred stood back a bit, but didn't leave the room.

"Where's Bruce?"

But Alfred didn't hear Clark's question. His eyes were stuck on the opposite wall where, above the mantel, was a small tablet nailed to the wall.

_Master Dick painted that when he was ten..._

It had a very nice golden background, and in the center was a large black bat that had its arms around a tiny robin. Master Bruce had been extremely hesitant to put it up, but always held it in his study. But, before the others had come after the f- funeral, he had ordered Alfred to hang it up.

Yes, _ordered_.

Master Bruce was taking it hard...

….But so was Alfred.

Though he had never said it, Alfred considered the boy a grandson. A surrogate grandson, of course. The old man had longed- since the first day he met Richard- for Master Bruce to adopt him. But, as always, the man hesitated. He didn't want to replace Richard's father. That was a mantel higher than any in the Manor- a mantel that no one could fill.

In secret, though, Alfred had seen the gleam in the young Master's eyes.

He _wanted_ to be a part of the Wayne family.

Sure, he was extremely proud of his Grayson roots, his aerialist blood, but the way he looked at Master Bruce...

Alfred had always loved Master Dick's eyes. The boy had crystal eyes, so clear that you could see them as if they were a mirror. They were light and true, trustworthy, yet cautious.

They say the eyes are the window to the soul.

_Then Master Dick's soul was full of light and happiness, determination, and... anger..._

Anger. Anger at Zucco. Until he had been brought to justice.

Anger. Anger at Bruce. Until he had made him Robin.

Anger. Anger at the world. Until he realized that there was nothing he could have done to save his parents.

Light. Light of Alfred's heart. He was like a candle. When Master Bruce had been so sorrowful, that child had always been able to make him smile.

He had made _Alfred _smile.

The old man remembered countless of times that the eight-year-old had plopped himself down on the kitchen cabinet and, when he thought Alfred wasn't looking, steal a bit of cookie dough. But Batman had learned from the master ghost.

Then, when he got older, Master Dick had gotten better. But, Alfred still caught him. That was Alfred.

"_My gosh, Alfie! You're like a ghost!"_

Was the young Master a ghost now? Was he an angel? Was he watching over Alfred and Bruce from a place on a cloud?

Tears came to Alfred's eyes as he remembered how Richard would have Alfred sing him to sleep. But, the boy had chimed in until he sang _himself_ to sleep.

"Alfred?"

The old man looked up to see everyone looking at him, their eyes worried. The butler replied with a tearful, cracking, "Yes, Master Kent?"

Suddenly, the little Martian girl was hugging Alfred's waist tightly. He was taken aback for a second, but, then, embraced her fully, silent tears running down his cheeks. Arms then encircled him around his back. He craned his neck slightly to see Master Wallace, tears running down his face, hugging him tightly.

All at once, Alfred found himself being squashed in between the two archers and the Superboy, too.

Then, Alfred did something that he had _never_, _ever_ done- at least in public.

He wept.

**you're weeping with alfred now, aren't you?**

**tee hee heee...**

**next: bruce, ending, alternate ending**

**so... review? (pwease?)**


	10. Bruce

**This one is really, really short, and I know you all were expecting some 500 pages for Bruce, but I got the emotions across well (_I_ think).**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

Bruce locked himself in his study, not wanting to see anyone. Not wanting to hear anyone. Not wanting, above all, to _speak_ to anyone.

His brain was pounding against the inside of his skull. His stomach was doing flips. His body was wracked with sweat, yet he was freezing cold.

Was this sadness? Was this grief?

He couldn't remember what he had done, had gone through to make the pain go away, when he was eight. All he could remember was that it had hurt. It had hurt so badly. He had starved himself for almost a week, crying until his eyes were dry. He had actually gotten dehydrated, and Alfred had taken him to the hospital where he stayed for another week.

Now, that pain was back with a mighty heat, an unforgiving fury.

In his anger, Bruce stood and knocked over his lamp. It shattered onto the floor, going into a billion pieces.

Like his life.

Richard- Dick- had _been_ his life.

He had been consumed by revenge and anger and grief his whole life, taking it out on the villains of Gotham. He had become the Batman, the World's Greatest Detective, the Dark Knight. He was the shadows, and the shadows were him. He was safest where no one else could see him, the most comfortable where no one could see his... _fear_.

Fear is the cause of anger.

And that was what was happening to Bruce now.

He was scared.

No, he was terrified.

Yes, you might think 'why on Earth was the Batman terrified?'

Well, as of now, he wasn't Batman. He was Bruce Wayne, the playboy, the world's third richest man alive, the White Knight of Gotham-

A loving, grieving father.

Dick had been an amazing child. Even from a young age, he showed so much potential. He was smarter and braver, stronger physically and mentally and emotionally than any child Bruce had ever met or seen. Even in Dick's terror and depression with his parents' death, he had been strong. He had put on a brave face when he had to, just as Bruce did 24/7. But instead of an all-out smokescreen, Richard had been able to cry. He cried himself to sleep in Bruce's arms many a night- even at thirteen, he had still sneaked into Bruce's room on that night to sleep with him. Of course, Bruce would pretend to still be asleep, though they both knew he wasn't. Richard would force his way under Bruce's arms, and the two would sleep holding onto each other.

It had been like that for six years.

Until now.

Now, Bruce was all alone again.

Sure, he had Alfred, but his son was gone.

His son.

His child.

His heir.

His partner.

His _baby bird_ was gone- dead- forever.

Bruce sat down in his chair, his head still beating and throbbing.

His little light, the ball of fire and joy that kept him from being enveloped by shadows forevermore, was gone.

Richard was dead.

And nothing would bring him back.

Bruce Wayne was now, forever, the Dark Knight, a protector who reigned from the shadows, watching over his city.

Only one thing had changed.

He wouldn't have his baby bird by his side.

Ever. Again.

**Okay. So. Yeah.**

**Don't go emo on me, please, just because this is sad... :*( no matter how much we love Robin, he _is_ fictional... sadly...**

**So, yeah, the faster you guys review, the faster I'll come out with the last two chapters!**

**Ending, then, Alternate Ending...**


	11. Original Ending

**I own nothing.**

***** This is the original ending, the one I had planned for the whole story from the beginning. But, due to begging and pleading, I have decided to make an alternate ending, which will be posted tomorrow. :)**

It was so early that the sky was still a deep navy color, the stars twinkling amongst the streetlights and moon. Dew gathered on the blackening grass, and moss had grown over most of the trees and graves over the rainy seasons. Bruce Wayne, in his fancy slacks and suit jacket, his leather shoes getting wet in the grass, shuffled along by the headstones.

He stopped right in front of two that said, _'Thomas Wayne' _and _'Martha Wayne'. _Ignoring the wet grass, the billionaire sat down in front of the old marble rocks and wiped some moss off with his hand. "Hello, Mom. Dad." He took in a shaky breath, tears coming to his eyes. "It's been a year since... Since Richard died... I just decided to visit you two as well, while I'm here..."

The silence grew.

Bruce chuckled hollowly. "I really don't know what to say... I failed you two when I was young, I failed Richard, I failed his parents... I just-" He sighed, putting his head in his hands.

There was somewhat of a whisper in the back of his mind, but he ignored it.

Blood-shot eyes peered back up at the headstones. "I love you, Mom, Dad... And I'm sorry... I'll visit in a month, I promise."

And with that, the billionaire stood and continued his walk, deeper into the cemetery. Owls hooted from the yonder forest, their bright yellow eyes beacons in the night. Bruce blinked, and they blinked back.

Soon, he reached the three headstones. The first two, the smaller ones, read, _'Mary Grayson' _and _'John Grayson'_. Bruce kicked up a bit of grass, shoving his hands in his pockets. The sky rumbled, and he knew a storm was coming.

"Hello, Mary, John..." He stopped, wetting his lips. His throat felt like it was swelling as he gazed at the cursive letters, scrawled into the granite. "I'm sorry." Tears came to his eyes. "I'm sorry that I couldn't save your son. I'm sorry that I wasn't there for him. I'm sorry that Batman couldn't do anything when you fell..." Bruce absentmindedly rubbed away the tears. "But, I want to say thank you... You entrusted your son to me for six years- and it was the best six years of my life..." His voice cracked as he continued, "I only wish that it could have been longer..."

The final gravestone he came to see towered up over the other two. It came up to Bruce's waist, and it was pure white stone. Quartzite stuck out in random clumps, and gold embossing ran around the edges of the momentum.

Bruce collapsed to his knees. As if in a movie, the rain began to pour.

As did Bruce's tears.

He hadn't cried in _years_- not like this. Not bawling his eyes out, his whole body shaking violently, his head pounding and pounding like a snare drum as his heart ached and dropped into the pit of his stomach.

He ran his fingers over the letters on the headstone. _'Richard 'Dick' John Grayson... Beloved Son... Gracious Friend... Unforgettable Acrobat..." _Bruce almost smiled at that last part. Wally had insisted that it be put on there- Bruce had said 'no' at first, but when he thought about it, he knew that Dick would be proud of that. So, he had them scrawl it out the biggest, in an arch above Dick's name.

Bruce's shoulders shook, his head falling forward as sobs emerged from his lips. The rain fell in sheets downwards, soaking his clothes, dripping from his coal-black hair. His voice cracked when he spoke his last regrets.

"D-Dick... I am s-so, _so_ sorry, Son... I should h-have been t-there for you... I sh-should have taken more t-time off work to just b-b-be with you... Richard John Grayson, p-please f-forgive me... Dickie, I l-love you... I am s-so, _so_ sorry..."

The whisper in the back of his mind came back, and he embraced it gently. To his surprise, he recognized Dick's voice.

_Bruce, you didn't forsake me or my parents _or _your parents... You did everything you could, Bruce... And thank you, so, so much for it... I love you, Daddy._

Daddy...

Dick had only ever called Bruce that once or twice, when he was scared. During his nightmares, he would crawl into Bruce's huge bed and cuddle up into the man's side like a kitten. He would even 'purr'. Or, at least, that's what he sounded like when he did that adorable snuffle-snore that just melted Bruce's heart.

Bruce's broken heart.

_I love you, Daddy._

Bruce looked up at the headstone, giving the smallest of smiles. "I love you, too, Dickie... I'll see you in a month- I promise."

_I know..._

The man stood, looking up into the now-gray sky. Rain pelted his face, but it was a good rain. A cleansing rain.

The pain would fade.

It would numb.

It would still be there, but he would get past this. He still had his memories, he still had Alfred, and he still had his future to where he would see his son in Heaven.

Turning around, Bruce made his way out of the cemetery, pausing on a moment to gaze one last time at his parents' graves. Then, he continued on towards the Bentley, where Alfred waited in the driver's seat.

Suddenly, a flash of white caught his eye.

In an instant, Bruce was in a fighting stance, facing-

A little boy.

He looked to be about six or seven, and he had on an over-sized white tee-shirt, stained brown and green in several sports, that hung off his shoulder. His shorts were too small, coming half-way up his skinny thighs. His face was gaunt, and his sapphire eyes were wide behind jet-black bangs. He looked so familiar...

"Dick?"

The boy whimpered, taking a step back.

Bruce got down on one knee, offering out a hand and a gentle smile. "Hey, hey... I'm not gonna hurt you, kiddo... It's okay..."

Warily, the child took a step closer. Bruce let his smile warm a bit. "Come on, let me help you."

Bruce stood and took off his jacket, darting over to the boy before he could react. He wrapped the jacket around the child and picked him up into his arms. The little boy's eyes were filled with tears, and he wrapped his arms around Bruce's neck. As he cried, he said, "P-P-Please don't let him h-h-hurt me, M-Mr. Wayne..."

_Oh. Of course he would know who I am. I'm famous... Crap..._

"It's okay, kid," the man said softly as he jostled the child up and down, trying to calm him. Bruce carried the boy over to his car and opened the door, pulling the child onto his lap as he shut the door. The child immediately curled into his chest, whimpering. _How can a boy be this... trusting?_

His mind flashed back to the funeral.

He had simply approached Dick with words of comfort, and the boy jumped into his arms in a strangle hold, weeping all the way back to the Manor.

"What's your name?"

The boy looked up, his face tear- and dirt-stained. "T-Timothy Drake..."

Bruce smiled gently, brushing the air from the boy's face.

"_Bruce... I don't think my Daddy would mind if you were my new Daddy... And, if you ever get a new son, well, that's okay with me, too. I'd love to have a little or big brother!"_

The man held tightly onto Timothy. "Well, Timothy, how would you like to come stay with me for a while?"

The boy's face lit up. "Y-You mean it?"

Bruce chuckled. "I mean it." He rapped on the window. "Alfred! We need to get home- this boy needs a hot bath and some fresh clothes."

Timothy snuggled into Bruce's chest, and, unconsciously, the man hugged him back. _I promise, Dickie, I will never forget you... but Timothy needs me- I don't know how or why or for how long, but..._

_I know, Bruce... I know..._

**BAAAAWL! (you're bawling, too, right?)**

**Seriously, I almost cried writing this chapter!**

**Anyways, a lot of you guessed right- "is tim/jason/damian going to show up?" Well, I don't relaly like Jason all too much, and my second-favorite Robin in Tim, followed by Damian (DAMIAN IS ADORABLE!) anyways... so...**

**Yeah.**

******* The next chapter is the 'alternate ending', so you might want to re-read chapter ten before you read it, or else everything might get confusing... Soo...**

The more people who review, the longer the next chapter will be!

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	12. Alternate Ending

**This is the _alternate_ ending, meaning I LIKE THE ORIGINAL ENDING BETTER, but due to prodding, I've made this. So, no whining.**

**I own nothing.**

**R&R!**

Bruce sat in his office in the Manor, his body leaning over his knees as he sat in his fine leather chair. He was running his fingers through his hair repeatedly, his breath coming in shaky rasps. _Oh, dear God... My son... My son..._

Alfred stopped at the door. The old butler's face was lean and pale, much paler than it had ever been before. After one year, well, not much was expected. "Masters Bartholomew and Wallace are here, Master Bruce. They wish to speak with you."

Bruce sat back in his chair, shuddering softly and massaging his temples. "Send them in."

Alfred nodded and left.

In one year, Young Justice was still alive, but just barely, hanging on by simple threads. No team members had been added or lost- that would have just shredded them all apart. In one year, all hopes had faded. Everything was a losing battle. Batman no longer existed- Bruce was too weak, his heart to heavy, to carry on.

Wally and Barry appeared at the door, the latter having an arm around his nephew's shoulders. "Hello, Bruce," he spoke, clearing his throat.

Bruce didn't look up.

Wally quickly voiced, "We came to visit. Is that... Is that oka-"

A blood-curdling, gut-churning scream rippled through the Manor. In an instant, Bruce was on his feet, darting up the stairs. Wally and Barry, tempted to use their super-speed, ran after him.

Bruce stopped in front of Dick's door and threw it open. The teenager was sitting up, his whole body shaking rapidly. The machines that were hooked up to his body in numerous places were all going crazy with viral brain and heart activity.

Dick's eyes were wide, and his scream was still going on. Bruce dropped himself onto the bed, pulling the now-fourteen-year-old close. He hushed him, tears of joy in his eyes. "Richard- Richard, ssh... ssh... It's okay-"

"I-I'm not d-d-dead?"

Bruce looked down at his son with a watery smile. "No- no, thank God you're not."

Dick looked over and, from beneath sweaty black bangs, began to sob when he saw Wally. "W-Wally!"

The ginger was instantly in the 'group-hug', holding Dick tightly to his chest. "! You''yearandIjustcan'timaginelifewithoutyou!"

Dick was too busy sobbing to pick up anything his best friend said. "B-But I got s-s-shot! And y-you had a funeral f-f-f-for me, and you a-adopted a new k-kid! A-And-"

Bruce gently cupped Dick's face in his hands, wiping away the tears. "Richard, yes you were shot, but you- you've been in a coma for almost a year..."

Blue eyes widened. "W-What?"

Barry came over, smiling gently, and ruffled the boy's hair. "We thought we had lost you. We did, actually."

"I couldn't stop crying," Wally admitted, remembering how he had thrown his body over Dick's, sobbing hysterically.

Dick's own sobs subsided softly. "W-What?"

Bruce pulled his son deeper into his chest, gently stroking the boy's hair. "J'onn was able to re-start your heart, but you were comatose. Dick- you've been in a coma for a year."

The boy gasped lightly, his face going stark white. "W-Wh-What..."

Barry pulled Wally away. "I think we should-"

"But Uncle Barry-"

"I-I'll see you later, W-Wally..." Dick assured him, smiling gently. "I p-promise..."

Wally shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded. "Okay. Bye."

"B-Bye..."

The two speedsters left, and Alfred appeared at the door. "Master Bruce! I heard- oh my word..."

Dick grinned genuinely at Alfred. "Hey, Al-"

But the old butler already had the boy in a bone-crushing hug. "Master Dick! Oh my word, you-you're awake! I- Oh, my..."

Dick returned the hug. "I've missed you, too, Alfred."

Suddenly, though, the teen pulled away. "Wait! I've been in a coma for a _year_, right?"

Bruce nodded slowly, running in fingers through Dick's hair, his eyes locked on the boy's face as if he was afraid to look away, less Dick would fall back into a deep slumber. "We need to go to the Cemetery." It was just a hunch, but if he was right...

Bruce cocked an eyebrow. "Richard, you just woke up-"

"Please..." His eyes were sincere. "Please, Dad..."

_Dad..._

Bruce sighed. "Alright. I'll get your coat."

…

Timothy clutched onto Dick's neck tightly as the older boy pulled him into the Bentley. Bruce slid int after them, still in shock. Timothy sniffled, wiping away tears. "Y-You won't let him h-h-hurt me?"

Dick slowly wiped some mud from the child's face, making sure that their eyes met. "I promise, Timmy. Now, how would you feel about having an older brother and a _new_ daddy?"

The boy grinned.

**YAAAY! One of my first challenge's finished!**

**qwardofanima, I hope you loved it!**

**oo**

**oo**

**oo**

**oooooooooooo**

**oooooooo**

**oooo**

**o**


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